


Hazy Days

by skreaver



Series: Gangsta Reader Inserts [5]
Category: Gangsta. (Anime & Manga)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-09 20:36:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14723171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skreaver/pseuds/skreaver
Summary: When fragments of the past were all you had to hold onto, it was easy to get lost in them, be consumed by them. Some days were worse than others. There were days you delved too deep to the point where you could have convinced yourself you were back there again. Those were days you simply sat and thought, immersing yourself in another time.





	1. A Clearing in the Haze

_**Rain.**_  
  
It reminds you of his quiet but undeniable presence. That small body you could carry effortlessly on your shoulders. Those teardrops from the sky poured down in a rhythm that sounded a lot like his sewn together heart, one you could feel softly beating against your back even now. A beat that resounded within the folds of your soul and made your sturdy knees quake under the innocence he held, despite the blood on his hands.   
  
_“We'll get you some medicine soon, Nico. Just hold out a bit longer...” he couldn't hear you, you knew that. It was reassurance for yourself. Reassurance that this was normal. He wouldn't die this time. It was just like any other time. No matter how ragged his breathing was against the shell of your ear or the way in which his small body was convulsing violently against yours, he'd still be okay. It was like every other time before._  
  
You walked through this town hazy most days, holding onto memories that were triggered by almost everything you encountered.  
  
_**Footsteps.**_  
  
_Bruises in the shape of his father's boot on his arm. Bruises you often traced your fingers along as his body rested limply against yours. The sway of his chest would slow to harmonize with the beat of your heart as he pressed his ear to it._    
  
_**Voices.**_  
  
_Something he couldn't harness properly. Something you never forced him to use, even if you loved to listen to him anyway._    
  
_**A rich looking woman holding a small, black notebook in her hand.**_  
  
_“Sign language? I've never heard of that before.”_  
“I'm not surprised.” it was a mocking retort that caused you to furrow your brows in reaction. Wallace wasn't a bad kid, misguided and mistreated, but he could be such a brat some times.   
  
“....anyway” you start, sucking your tongue against your teeth, trying to your best to just carry on. “You communicate using your hands, yeah?”   
“That's the gist of it” Wallace responds, placing the book that covered the details of this new language on the table.  
You watch Nicolas' eyes follow the books placement with interest and grin to yourself.  
“Guess we better get started!”  
  
_**A faint conversation between two men, talking about their bosses orders.**_    
  
_Your throat was raw that day, your screaming mouth swallowing the thick tears racing down your cheeks. You kicked and roared as Gaston dragged you from Nicolas' form that remained beyond the fence surrounding the Domineco's estate. His fate belonged no longer to the west gate mercenaries._  
  
“LET ME STAY WITH HIM!” but your request fell on voluntarily deaf ears.  
  
That had been the beginning of the end.  
  
When fragments of the past were all you had to hold onto, it was easy to get lost in them, be consumed by them. Some days were worse than others. There were days you delved too deep to the point where you could have convinced yourself you were back there again. Those were days you simply sat and thought, immersing yourself in another time.   
  
Other days you could function just fine, tread carefully on the thin line separating reality and memories. Those days you could interact, try your best to find work for the day in the strained effort of feeding yourself at least for the night.   
  
You were still as strong as you were then, before you had been disbanded from the mercenaries, left to rot here in this city teeming with tall rats and scum. Despite the wasteland your mind was becoming, you were just as strong as then and in this town everyone needed a strong arm. A hand for hire that wasn't shaky with a gun and a heart that held only faint traces of remorse for the dead was so highly valued. That was the only kind of work you could afford. The only line of work you were cut out for here.  
  
That line of work that would land you in jail later that day.  
  
Lost in thought, the goon squad had you handcuffed and in the back of their car rather quickly. You could have struggled, could have yelled but what was the point? Nothing you could say or do was going to get you out of this and in a town like this particular one, jail might have been the safest place anyhow. You could rot away with your memories in peace.  
  
It was a short ride to the station. You didn't much care for the way they manhandled you out of the car, down the hall and into the interrogation room. They gripped your arms tight enough to bruise and spoke with enough venom between their teeth to make a small child tremble, but it wasn't like you had it in you to retaliate.   
  
Today was a hazy day, after all.  
  
You glanced idly about the room you were now confined to, sitting calmly as you await the chief. Your eyes are just barely paying attention to details, skimming over “wanted” and “missing” posters. It was nothing out of the ordinary to find at a police station but your eyes were only scanning the office in a fruitless attempt for something to get your mind going. But there was nothing here to remind you of him. Nothing to trigger a memory.  
  
That was until your pupils landed on something very curious, something almost familiar.   
  
“No... there's no way....” a strangled whisper left your mouth.  
  
You rose carefully from your chair, feeling your heavy legs struggling to keep up with your racing mind as you closed in on the picture.   
  
_**A face.**_  
  
Images from the past race through your mind, overlaying themselves on top of the picture in front of you. Old and new mix together, fitting perfectly alongside a name...  
  
**A name.**  
  
“Nico...las...Brown...” you choked back a heavy sob as your palm gently reaches up to cover your mouth, your wide eyes fixating on the picture before you.   
  
It couldn't be... he was here? All this time? How did you never see him, never noticed him? Surely, you would have. His face looked almost exactly the same, you would have seen him dammit! How could it be that he'd been here, right under your nose...? You spent all this time, wasting away without him.  
  
“What are you doing over there!?”  a man, easily in his late sixties to early seventies entered the room.   
His hair was a faded white color, slicked back against his scalp. The wrinkles on his face were the testaments of a man who had seen too much, a man ready to call it quits and yet could not give up so easily. He was the chief for a reason.“You've got handcuffs on for a reason, sit back down!” his voice was gruff, demanding but even he couldn't ignore how he felt that wretched sting in his chest to see such a young person crying. It wasn't uncommon in this town and by now he should have grown numb to it. He never could.  
  
It was almost ironic how as if on queue, that was when your legs decided to give out, your body softly slumping into a gently sobbing mess, barely registering the voice behind you.   
  
“Nicolas.... Nicolas....” through your quiet sobs, his name found it's place on your lips.   
  
“I said sit back down, crying isn't going to get you out of this.”   
  
“Nicoolaass....” it was a deep whine you let out of your mouth. Hard, thick sobs followed it. Your head fell against the wall as you gripped onto your hair, tugging hard enough that you could have ripped the follicles right out of your head.   
  
You were overcome with emotions: the gentle sting of relief to know he was alive, anguish for the fact he'd been so close and yet you could never find him, sadness, hot like a fever, to know you might never find him now.   
  
“Nicolas, huh...?” Chad mumbles, finally making sense of your mangled cries. The old man sucks his tongue against his teeth, mumbling to himself “...better give those guys a call....”


	2. When the Fog Clears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicolas gets a call from Chad about some weirdo down at the station who's been blubbering his name pretty much since they got there. Nicolas hasn't known anyone who has openly cried for him or about him and.... well that's a lie, he supposes. But it's definitely not possible that it's them...
> 
> There's no way it could be who he wants it to be... right?

_'It's nice outside, for once'_ he thought.

Dark eyes peer through a dusty window, as they did most days, taking in the landscape of a million small apartment buildings and cluttered, dirty streets with just as many people stuffed into dark alleys and tiny streets.

He noticed how the tops of roofs were sprinkled with raindrops and how the sun shone brightly in the sky, twinkling in the aftermath of an earlier sun shower. Further in the distance Nicolas noticed a rainbow sparkling over the police station.

 _"It's never like this'_ he muses. _'Something shitty always happens when it rains'_

_Clomp, clomp, clomp._

Nicolas feels the vibration of his partner's heavy, sloppy footsteps making their way to somewhere. He angles his head, eyes watching as the blond man shuffles over to the phone, mouth appearing to be mumbling some sort of complaint.

“Aw c'mon, it's such a nice day! Better not be some assignment...” Worick grumbles, lazily picking up the phone and pressing it to his ear. “Hello, this is Benriya- oh, hi Chad”

Nicolas chuckles to himself at the look of disdain that falls over Worick's features.

“Eh? You need us to come down to the station? What for?” there's a small pause. Suddenly Worick's eyes light up in curiosity.

“Is that so? Someone asking for Nicolas?”

Nicolas' expression shifts to mimic Worick's. The two handy men are staring at each other, sharing thoughts and feelings in the silence of the room as Chad chitters away on the other end.

Who could possibly be asking for him? At the police station no less? The only people who knew him by name were the people he worked with and those who wanted to kill him and if it were someone looking for a fight they would find him on the streets and challenge him there – that's how it always was. There wasn't anyone outside of Ergastulum that he'd left behind that honestly cared about him....

Well, that was a lie though, wasn't it?

There was _them._ ____. He still remembered their name, of course. It was like his lullaby on nights where he couldn't sleep. Remembering their gentle touches, their sweet face and how they honestly, genuinely cared about him when they didn't have to. Nicolas' first and last love. Of course he would lose someone like that, a monster like him was fit to be held by no one so gently as them.

It couldn't be them. Thinking it could be was painful, so he pushed the thought out of his mind.

 

\- - -

 

“Any thoughts on our mystery person, partner?” Worick questions, lighting up a cigarette.

Nicolas just shrugs, avoiding the hateful stares of the people on the street.

“Well that's no good, I'm stumped too” Worick sighs, puffing out a breath of smoke and frowning.

Nicolas tried to pay no mind to it, to not think about it. He knew who he wanted it to be and it just wasn't possible. It was more likely to be some long lost relative he never heard of who, like him, was abandoned. In some vain attempt to feel like they belonged somewhere, they sought him out. That's not what Nicolas wanted but it was more likely.

Then again did Nicolas really want them to be here? In this city? At least with the mercenaries they weren't ground to one place, forced to stay in this filthy city. A kind heart like theirs didn't belong here. They deserved something far better.

Nicolas looks up at the sky, thoughts racing, and yet he can't help but notice that the closer they get to the police station, the brighter the rainbow he'd seen before seems to shine.

“Whelp, we're here pal, time to see who your mystery person is.” Worick pipes up, scrubbing the butt of his cigarette on the front wall of the station. “Oohh, maybe it's a secret admirer~” Worick teases with a cheeky grin as he reaches for the door to the police station.

Nicolas rolls his eyes with a grunt as he follows behind his giggling partner, already tempted to sock him in the shoulder and they'd only been out for all of ten minutes.

Stepping into the station Nicolas is greeted by the cool air – the police station was probably one of the only buildings in Ergastulum to have air conditioning – and the stale tension that pervaded the space. If he had to guess the building always felt like this but it was made worse by the fact Nicolas knew he didn't belong here – not as a visitor at least – and had it not been for his companionship with Worick and their shared creation of Benriya, he just might have been behind bars, pressed far away from the city.

He and his partner make his way down the halls, passing cubicles and smiles directed at Worick that immediately fall into flat lines the minute they looked his way. He would love to say that it didn't hurt, that he had long since given up on ever trying to please anyone, namely perfect strangers, but the sting in his gut majorly contradicted any thought of the sort.

Ignoring what he could of their stares, he soon found himself in Chad's office.

“So what's going on here, old man?” Worick questions, plopping himself into a seat in front of the chief's desk.

Chad rolls his eyes, ignoring the 'nickname' as it were, already far to used to it. “It's like I told you over the phone, there's someone here who knows Nicolas. We think they're some type of merc, we brought them in after we found them at the site of a job and when I came into question them I found them collapsed in a ball hysterically sobbing. Only thing I could make out was Nicolas' name”

His name? On the lips of someone who was uncontrollably crying? Normally he'd say that was a fitting image but most of the time it wasn't tears but rather an expression of anger and hatred that accompanied his name in the mouths of others.

Worick tilts his head, a curious expression settling on his face.“Any idea who they are? Could you get a name out of them?”

“No and they're not tagged either so it's not like we could just look at that” the older man sighs. “Look I don't think they're dangerous, in fact last I saw them they were curled up in their cell – been that way ever since I put them there. Why don't you go see if you know them? If not we'll leave 'em in there and call it a day”

Worick shrugs, then looks to Nicolas. “How do you feel about that partner?”

Nicolas returns much the same gesture, shrugging with a placid face. He had to admit some part of him was curious as to how this person knew him and if it was someone he knew – or could recognize – but some part of him also didn't want to bother. He knew who he wanted it to be and that just wasn't possible so any outcome aside from that would be, in his opinion, a waste of time.

Still yet, they were down there, might as well.

“Alright, well let's go check it out real quick and then we can leave” Worick decides, taking Nicolas' outward indifference as a sign that it was alright to go through with that plan.

They get an off handed 'thank you' from Chad as the older man busies himself in paperwork and they leave the office. The two of them were more than well acquainted with the place so finding their way to the cells would be an easy task even without a guide, which is why Chad didn't even bother. Upon arrival, they let the guard know why they're there and he soon let's them in, directing them to the cell of the person they're supposed to visit.

Nicolas can feel this... bittersweet sort of tug in his stomach. He keeps thinking... keeps wishing it'll be who he thinks it is but the minute he allows himself any hope of that idea, he quashes it, unwilling to set his hopes too high. There was no way they were here. They couldn't be... right?

They soon arrive at the cell and just as Chad had said, the person was indeed curled up in a ball in the corner of their cell. Nicolas couldn't make out any vibrations that sounded like sobbing but in such a small, busy corner of the building Nicolas was picking up a lot of inane and trivial waves of speech and yelling. Looking closer, Nicolas can't really make out who it is, their face is stuffed in their knees but... their clothes looked oddly familiar. It's a bigger design than the one he remembers wearing – remembers _them_ wearing – but it certainly did remind him of the uniform his father and his crew used to wear.

“Hey, you alright in there?” Worick calls, softly patting a hand against the bars to try to get the person's attention. The attempt is futile of course, they make no moves whatsoever. “Looks like we're going to have to go in”

Worick pulls out the key the guard had lent him and sticks it into the lock, turning it and swinging the door open upon it's release. The two of them step closer to the person curled up in a ball, weary and cautious but somewhere deep down... Nicolas had this feeling they weren't anything to be afraid of. In fact the minute he gets closer to them he feels... comfortable, safe almost. It was a feeling he'd only ever known a few times in his life and.... no, maybe he was projecting. He really couldn't get this thought out of his mind could he?

But really... the closer he looked the more it seemed like... it could be you? The person had the same hair color as you, albeit a little disheveled given the current situation, the same body type but only a tad smaller – possibly through years of malnutrition he tried to reason – and you were wearing his former guild's uniform, he was sure of that now.

“Hey there” Worick calls, crouching down next to the person. His voice is soft, careful almost. It was almost funny to Nic to have watched him turn from such a brat into the closest thing this town would get to a gentleman. “We heard from the chief that you know my buddy here. Does the name Nicolas Brown, ring any bells for you?”

In an instant their head shot up and... he was overcome with emotions at the face revealed to him. He can feel that bubble he'd been holding in his chest inflate to twice the size that it was. That bittersweet sting in his gut was all the more tangible now, just slightly sweeter. He can hardly believe what he's seeing and he almost questions it but it... it really was...

Worick wobbles a bit, almost losing his balance in the shock. “[Name]?! Holy shit is that you?”

… it was you.

Your eyes widen, mouth hanging open the smallest bit as you lay eyes on Worick, seeming to mesh the picture you had of him in his youth with the man you saw before you now. God, you looked so tired. Nicolas could see the bags under your eyes and the dreariness in them as well. It's a look he'd acquainted himself with in the mirror on far too many occasions and to see you wearing it, knowing what it felt like, shook him in a way he didn't think possible.

“Wallace.... is that? Is it really you?” you stutter, reaching a quivering hand out to gently touch the man's face and jumping when you feel skin underneath your palm – as if you half expected him to be a mirage. “Oh my God...” your voice is hushed, a whisper, like if you spoke any louder your body might just rupture.

“You haven't aged a bit darling, I'm jealous” Worick grins, covering the hand on his cheek with his larger one.

Somehow, a ghost of a smile cracks it's way onto your face. “You've got facial hair now...never thought I'd see that” you laugh, airy and light. “And what's with the darling? Usually you're rolling your eyes at me or blowing smoke in my face..”

Worick laughs, it's something full and heartwarming, a kind of laugh Nicolas doesn't think he'd ever heard from the man – and if he had, it had been ages since it resurfaced. “Time's certainly have changed, haven't they?”

You nod, slowly but in agreement all the same. Your eyes start to wander, aware suddenly that there's another person in the room, standing just a ways from you and Worick.

Nicolas felt like his heart was going to fall right out of his chest at the way you looked at him. Your eyes widened and the hand holding Worick's cheek flew to your mouth as your eyes started to water.

“Oh my God...”

Nicolas has no idea how to react. He knew his heart was singing and he knew deep in his gut he wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and never, ever, let you go again but his feet wouldn't let him – the walls he'd built up to keep the world out wouldn't let him.

That didn't stop you though.

In a split second you had clambered to your feet, legs wobbly from absolutely everything you were feeling but it wouldn't deter you, not now, and within mere moments you had bolted yourself straight at Nicolas and launched yourself into his chest. Your arms latch around him as tightly as you could possibly muster, making sure that this was real, that he was here and that he wasn't going anywhere.

He wasn't... and slowly his arms wrap around you, pulling you in closer. The only feeling of belonging he had ever known rushes back to him and fills his senses. The kind of safe that you made him feel reinvigorates his entire body and for once the walls the come down, they crumble in the wake of your crushingly warm embrace.

“Nicolas... it's you... it's really you. I never... thought I'd see you again...” you're shaking against him, very clearly sobbing but for much happier reasons now.

This feeling... for once was reality and not something he merely cooked up in a half hearted dream about randomly seeing you on the street one day and rekindling that bond you'd lost.

You were home... and even if he didn't want you to call such a filthy place like this home... he couldn't help but be selfish for just once in his life.

You were here.... with him. Where you, and he, had always wanted you to be.

 

**Author's Note:**

> That's it! Happy ever after!
> 
> I might do a chapter after this about how reader joins Benriya (because that's absolutely what's going to happen) or this could even be a prequel to Against the Wall or Balanced or even both if you so choose! I won't make that official here but it's definitely a thought of mine. 
> 
> This has been three years in the making as I originally published the first chapter of this on my deviantART in 2015 so I'm glad to have finally found the time to finish this because I'd really been meaning to for so long but everything just... was a mess we'll say. 
> 
> Anyway, as always let me know what you guys thought of this! All comments are appreciated!


End file.
